


Eight Letters

by extraordinary



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Maid!Rin Week, bottom!Haru (with mentions of switching), kinky outfits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraordinary/pseuds/extraordinary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru simply shrugs, clearly unconcerned, and keeps going until he's reached the very tips of Rin's hair. "I don't think we've got any rubber bands," He eventually admits, "It's kind of messy, anyway. Your hair's still too short, Rin."</p><p>"I'll grow it out a bit," Rin decides impulsively, grabbing the nearest of Haru's hands and reeling it in — until he can firmly press his lips to each of the little valleys in between Haru's knuckles. "Deal?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maokatsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maokatsu/gifts).



> Written for day #1 of Maid!Rin Week (prompt: getting ready/getting undressed)!
> 
> Uhm... Enjoy? 
> 
> I used a more playful style for this one. I'm not sure I like the result, but it sure was fun writing it! Err, for the parts that didn't drive me absolutely bonkers, that is.

The cheap, machine-made lace trim lining the bottom of Rin's ridiculously voluminous underskirt is irritatingly scratchy on the bare skin of his thighs and abdomen — but the steady _slap, slap, slap_ of his increasingly sweaty hips meeting the swell of Haru's ass sure goes a long way to help keep him sufficiently focused on his current task.

It's not exactly _a chore_ , though.

Pounding an uncharacteristically pliable and loose-limbed Nanase Haruka — with his impeccably white TOEI University t-shirt pushed all the way up to his armpits, and the waistband of his underwear caught just below the perfectly rounded globes of his equally impeccable ass  — into the haphazardly stacked pile of pillows preventing both of them from toppling forward onto the floor of their brand spanking new studio apartment, that is.

In any case, Rin is more than content to do the majority of the work tonight. He doesn't mind indulging some of Haru's little whims and fantasies once in a while, after all, and Haru had certainly earned his goodwill by cooking up a satisfyingly spicy kimchi platter for dinner (in favour of the usual mackerel-flavoured fare he's so absurdly fond of serving 24/7).

He's _not_ quite as pleased about the outfit Haru'd impulsively talked him into wearing for the occasion, however, but it's a small price to pay for the honour of turning his rival-turned-team-mate into the wanton creature currently squirming delightfully underneath his eager gaze.

Besides, Haru'd obligingly worn the outrageous costume the first time they'd fished the rumpled _' **Fancy French Maid Ensemble - 100% Synthetic & Flame Resistant!**'_ set out of the nondescript cardboard box they'd stored it in — virtually _the minute_ they'd received the monstrosity as a gag house-warming gift from one of Rin's overzealous ex-classmates  — and Rin had definitely enjoyed the alarmingly erotic little show Haru had mockingly given him then. His orgasm had hit him so hard that night, and so unexpectedly, that they'd ended up having to throw the elbow-length gloves out the very next day (much to Haru's insufferably pleased surprise). 

_Anyway._

Moving on.

Haru may be in an unusually hedonistic and oddly malleable mood tonight, but he isn't exactly _slacking off_ either; he's grinding back into every single one of Rin's thrusts, rhythmically clenching his muscles around Rin's cock to a beat only he can hear, and he keeps making the most encouraging little noises each time Rin's glans successfully hits a particularly good spot inside of him.

Unfortunately, Rin's afraid he won't be able to keep up this dizzying pace for much longer. He's also pretty sure the condom a bare-faced Haru had skilfully rolled on for him when they'd inevitably moved past foreplay will threaten to tear if he doesn't ease up said pace soon, even if the thing's made out of latex _and_ happens to be pre-lubricated.

One thing Rin isn't quite as certain of, though, is why Haru'd been — surprisingly subtly, even — urging Rin into treating him a little more roughly than usual (all damn night). It's all so fucking _off-script_ , and it leaves Rin floundering uncertainly for his proverbial lines in a way he probably should've been getting used to by now, but when it really comes down to it: there's no way in hell he can pretend Haru's efforts are unwelcome, or in vain.

He usually doesn't get to just _let go_ and selfishly take whatever he wants from Haru like this  — well, uh, never in _this_ particular set up anyway. The mood to let Rin insert _anything_ into his blindingly pale ass doesn't strike an otherwise generally receptive Haru very often, after all. In fact: it happens so infrequently that Rin has actually become accustomed to shooting his load embarrassingly early whenever Haru gets it in his head to hook a foot around the back of Rin's knee and purposefully trap him between those deceptively lean legs of his.

Rin doesn't really care about any of that, though. He's more than content to simply ride himself raw on Haru's perfectly arched cock whenever either of them — or both, preferably — happen to be in the mood for _that_ kind of thing (but he's only human, in the end, and he really can't deny how good it feels to let his instincts take over for a while as he mindlessly buries himself deeper and deeper into the welcoming heat of Haru's body).

"Shit," He begins, terribly eloquently, left hand splayed wide across the small of Haru's heaving back. His eyes are practically glued to the hypnotizing movement of Haru's hips, and the obscene way the fleshy mounds of his ass bounce up and down with each of Rin's thrusts, now. "Hey, Haru...? I don't — _ngh_!  — think I can keep this up."

Haru merely exhales a noisy breath through his nose, an odd little gesture that falls perfectly in between an annoyed huff and a relieved sigh, then pointedly squeezes Rin's already painfully hard cock even tighter. It's not exactly a _conclusive_ response, but Rin's pretty sure he can work with it.

With Haru's body still so exceptionally pliant and accommodating, it's easy enough for Rin to carefully guide him onto one side and into a far more comfortable-looking recline —  even if Haru immediately makes a grab for the base of Rin's cock and unhelpfully prevents Rin from pulling the last couple of inches of it out of his body in the process. Rin'd probably make an attempt to gather the necessary oxygen to (mercilessly) tease Haru about it, if only it wasn't such _a fucking turn-on_.

Here's what he does instead:

Placing a steadying hand on the jut of Haru's upturned hip to ground himself, Rin hurriedly hikes up the layers of his skirt a little higher before wrapping the other around Haru's neglected erection. Once he's fairly confident he won't accidentally send them both crashing into an embarrassing tangle of limbs on the floor, he gradually begins to _move_ again  — picking up the pace he'd been setting before surprisingly easily.

Haru makes a breathless, appreciative little noise in the back of his throat; and Rin indulgently rewards him for it with another well-aimed thrust, snapping his hips forward so quickly that Haru's entire body jerks along with the force of it.

"Getting closer?" He grunts, eagerly sliding his sweaty fist up and down Haru's hard length — in perfect tandem with the movements of his hips. It's a little on the dry side, even after his keen fingers have dutifully picked up all of the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, but he knows from experience that Haru actually _likes_ that sort of thing. " _C'mooon..._ Hurry the fuck up already, Haru."

As expected, Haru doesn't bother to reply. The majority of his face is hidden by the slack arm he's stubbornly keeping in place over his forehead, and who the fuck knows how he's even managing that particular feat right now, but he's watching Rin out of the corner of one eye regardless — and his heated gaze is gratifyingly wild and unfocused.

Haru _is_ starting to get close, then, Rin decides.

He's starting to feel a little light-headed, his ears are ringing, and his thoughts are steadily spinning out of his control as the pressing need to make Haru finally lose that cool façade of his — outside of a competition-oriented environment — _as soon as fucking possible_ closes in on him. Suddenly the desire to fuck Haru _so hard_ and _so good_ that the infuriatingly stoic asshole won't have any other choice but to remove the offending arm from Rin's front-row view of his face (in order to brace a sweaty palm on the floor instead, no less) is so overwhelming that Rin can only give in to it without even trying to put up a fight.

Isn't _that_ what Haru's been unrepentantly angling for all fucking night, anyway?

With the lower half of his body propped up at a rather severe angle, and his head cushioned awkwardly on a loosely bent arm, there really isn't anywhere for a  harshly panting and writhing Haru to retreat to when Rin finally pulls out all the stops: pressing his thumb down _just so_ over the sensitive slit at the centre of Haru's glans, possessively digging his fingernails into the smooth skin of Haru's hip (the way he knows will only make Haru squirm even harder), and ultimately finishing up his spontaneous assault by leaning down to press a sloppy kiss into the corner of Haru's open mouth — as soon as the arm Haru'd been using to hide his reactions from Rin hits the floor behind him with a muffled _thud_.

Haru makes a keening noise in the back of his throat as Rin gratefully peppers his face with wet little kisses, greedily craning his neck up for _more_ now that he's finally stopped holding back, and begins whispering a litany of Rin's name — with the occasional _"there, ah, right there..."_ and breathless _"don't stop!"_ mixed in. 

It's over all too soon, of course.

Haru's entire body tenses up abruptly, right on the heels of a particularly well-placed thrust, and soon Rin's thumb (and the top of his hand) are liberally being coated with the sticky little globs of Haru's release. Rin hurriedly pulls on the breaks, willing his treacherous hips to remain as still as humanly possible while Haru's body clenches and pulses enticingly around him, and takes a moment to fondly brush the damp strands of Haru's fringe away from his forehead.

"Feeling better now?" He whispers into Haru's ear, mindfully cradling Haru's twitching cock in the palm of his hand — through each of the powerful spurts of his receding orgasm — until its completely spent.

Haru nods, when he's finally ready to move again, and reaches out to place a grateful hand over each of Rin's own. "You didn't have to stop on my account, Rin..."

Rin considers taking Haru up on the unspoken offer to continue what he'd started for a split-second — because it's a pretty damn tempting one _ —_ but quickly thinks better of it. "My knees are kind of starting to hurt," He eventually mutters, cheeks flushing with heat for a reason he can't begin to discern (and he's pretty sure he doesn't want to try, either), then draws his hips back before he can change his mind. "D'you mind if I take this ridiculous thing off now?"

Haru's breath hitches noticeably when the head of Rin's cock finally slips out of his body, but he doesn't _look_ like he's in pain  — he just looks sated: completely at ease, and terribly well-fucked.

Rin mindfully rubs the pad of his thumb over the slightly swollen skin around Haru's opening (in what he hopes are soothing little circles), anyway. He keeps it up until Haru's eyes have fluttered shut, and both his _and_ Haru's breathing has evened out; then he blindly feels around for the nearby box of tissues, and wipes up the sticky mess on his hand and Haru's stomach as well as he can.

By the time he's gingerly getting up to dispose of the condom, he's already forgotten all about his earlier question _or_ the need to take his absurd costume off  — so when Haru hurriedly reaches out to grab Rin's ankle and effectively halt him in his tracks, it very nearly startles an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp out of him.

"Can I do it?"

Rin dumbly blinks down at a surprisingly earnest and rejuvenated looking Haru in his confusion, but obligingly lowers himself back down into a crouch when it becomes increasingly obvious Haru isn't going to let go of his ankle any time soon — unless Rin cooperates, of course.

Dutifully lifting up the edges of his skirt, Rin holds still and desperately tries to pretend he can't feel his flush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears as Haru's nimble fingers makes short work of removing the condom for him. To distract himself from his rising embarrassment, and perhaps even break the unnervingly intimate spell Haru is so effortlessly weaving around them, he blurts out: "Why'd I even have to put this on in the first place? You barely even looked at it."

"I didn't _need_ to," Haru fires back without missing a beat, sliding his hands around Rin's waist to untie the large bow at the centre of his back. The forked ends of the long ribbons tickle the back of Rin's thighs as he does so  — in a way that makes Rin's cock, currently pressed up against Haru's abdomen, twitch in undeniable interest. "I've got a photographic memory."

Rin snorts, amused in spite of himself. "Goes well with your vivid imagination, I suppose?"

True to form, Haru doesn't even bother to reply — but Rin hadn't really expected him to, anyway. He merely slides his hands further up Rin's back to unclasp the tiny little hook at the nape of Rin's neck, before wordlessly tugging down the hidden zipper pull underneath it in one smooth movement. Rin shimmies out of the dress as soon as he can, helpfully tilting his hips while Haru eases what looks like an armful of fabric down over his erection, and carelessly lets it pool in a heap at his ankles.

Haru immediately sets about kissing his way down Rin's exposed chest the very second the path is cleared, paying particular attention to Rin's rapidly hardening nipples while he blindly kneads the muscles of Rin's quivering thighs with both of his hands. "Feeling better now?" He teases, in a flawless echo of Rin's earlier words, knowingly eyeing Rin through the dark cover of his fringe (and his impossibly long eyelashes).

"I think I'm getting there," Rin grudgingly allows, self-indulgently carding his fingers through the soft hair at the back of Haru's neck. "I don't have a fancy photographic memory to help me out, though..."

"Don't worry, Rin. I'll give you _a hand_."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes Rin's throat before he can even _try_ to swallow it down  — but it soon morphs into a pleased groan when Haru makes good on his words by deftly wrapping his fingers around the base of Rin's painfully hard cock, giving it a handful of breathtakingly good tugs before promptly lowering his head and guiding the tip of it into the obscenely round 'o' of his parted lips.

Rin squeezes his eyes shut as tightly at possible, throws his head back to utter a low groan at the ceiling, and _wills_ himself not to empty his balls down the back of Haru's throat the very second Haru starts jerking Rin off into his mouth in earnest.

_Fucking hell._

It's a close call, in the end.

He's just been hard for _too long_ already, really — and the intense heat of Haru's fucking gorgeous mouth around him (even though he can't actually bear to _look_ at it right now), along with the insistent swirling and zigzagging of Haru's enviably nimble tongue, rapidly becomes too much for him to handle. And when it does finally hit him, it hits him _hard._

He comes with a full-body shudder — and a hoarse, broken _"H-Haaaa-ru...!" —_ before the poor guy's even had time to settle into anything resembling a steady rhythm, hips bucking wildly in aborted little thrusts as he paints the inside of Haru's waiting mouth with his long-overdue release.

Haru accepts it all, milking him dry with a steady fist and swallowing every last drop he coaxes out of Rin. Then he gently untangles Rin's fingers from his hair, gives the head of Rin's cock a parting little kiss, and guides a blearily blinking Rin down onto the nest of pillows on the floor. "Stay here," He tells Rin in a whisper, voice undeniably fond and tender. "I'm going to get a wash-cloth and some fresh pillow covers. Do you want me to bring you a glass of water while I'm at it?"

Rin nods gratefully, letting his head sink a little deeper into the welcoming refuge of the pillow behind him as he does so, and distractedly pushes the mess of his fringe back out of his face in order to capture more of the faint little smile tugging at the corner of Haru's pleasingly red lips. He mutters something or other in reply, practically on auto-pilot, and lifts a boneless hand to wave Haru along.

But Haru merely blinks at him, frozen in place with both of his hands braced for balance on the smooth surface of their Western-style flooring, and decidedly does _not_ get up to fetch any of the things he said he would.

Rin's vision blurs unexpectedly, just for a split-second, then abruptly sharpens again as it hones in on Haru's steadily widening blue eyes — _and then_ , then the off-handed words he'd uttered on instinct finally catch up with him:

_"I love you so fucking much. Y'know that, right?"_

Oh.

He's never said that before.

Not _out loud_ , at least.

But he'd meant every word of it — even if he hadn't actually _meant_ to give voice to those feelings just yet  — and now that it's out there, he can't bring himself to feel self-conscious or embarrassed about it. Haru had probably (hopefully?) already _known_ , anyway.

"Can I braid your hair?" Haru suddenly asks, in a blatant non sequitur — one that _really_ shouldn't have any business being as comforting as it is. "Ran says I've gotten better at it."

"I'm not actually a girl, you know..." Rin protests out of habit, but cooperatively lifts his head when Haru sheepishly settles back down next to him.

"Trust me, Rin: _I'm aware._ " Haru retorts, slowly running his fingers through Rin's hair to work out the worst of the tangles. "I've still got an awful after-taste in my mouth to prove it."

"You sure know how to make a compelling case," Rin grudgingly allows, levelling an extremely satisfied looking Haru with his very best put-upon frown before throwing him a well-deserved bone. " _Fine_. All right. Knock yourself out, then."

"Hn..."

Haru wastes no further time, skilfully parting a generous portion of Rin's hair into different sections before efficiently weaving it all together in a complicated plait.

It feels really nice, having those adept fingers play with his hair like this — like the world outside their bedroom has stopped spinning for a little while; and won't begin to move again as long as the bare skin of Haru's bent leg remains snugly pressed up to his side.

It's true, then: Haru _has_ gotten a lot better at it.  Rin kind of hopes Haru will want to do the other side as well.

He finds himself relaxing further into the pillows under Haru's confident — but unhurried, and almost unbearably gentle — touch, sighing contently in an effort to convey his appreciation without actually having to speak the embarrassing words out loud (even though he doesn't exactly have a great track record there, does he?). Instead, he asks: "Won't it just unravel if you don't tie up the ends, though?"

Haru simply shrugs, clearly unconcerned, and keeps going until he's reached the very tips of Rin's hair. "I don't think we've got any rubber bands," He eventually admits, "It's kind of messy, anyway. Your hair's still too short, Rin."

"I'll grow it out a bit," Rin decides impulsively, grabbing the nearest of Haru's hands and reeling it in — until he can firmly press his lips to each of the little valleys in between Haru's knuckles. "Deal?"

Haru smiles one of his rare, private smiles in response.

Rin's heart skips a beat.

Suddenly they're kissing, _properly_ , like they don't have a brutal 5:30 AM practice waiting for them the next morning — or a matching set of essays to prepare over lunch — and the hand Rin had been holding onto slips free of his grasp and wanders down, down, _down_ _..._ sliding along the curve of his neck and over the ridge his collar bone, where it suddenly swerves slightly to the left before coming to an abrupt halt right over his heart.

Then Haru draws back, just as suddenly, to look down at the hand he'd placed on Rin's chest with an unreadable expression on his face.

Rin's just about to ask him what's wrong when Haru's hand twitches back into life and slowly — almost _shyly_ , really — begins to move, drawing strangely loopy symbols into Rin's skin with the pad of his index finger. He's frowning down at Rin's chest with a look of pure concentration on his face — and that's probably what ends up cluing Rin in, actually: the symbols are _letters_ , and the _letters_ form _words._

There's eight letters in total.

Rin's completely missed the first two, but the remaining six are conclusive enough for him to figure out what Haru's trying to tell him (without actually _tellin_ g him):

———  **O** , **V** , **E**  ——— **Y** , **O** , **U**

Apparently Haru isn't finished, though, because after a short pause — to determinedly meet Rin's eyes — he adds a **T** , and two more **O** 's.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he says: " _Deal._ "

The grin that breaks out on Rin's face, then, is painfully wide  — and it stays in place, unwavering, even long after Haru's beaten a tactical retreat to the kitchen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, self... 
> 
> A gift from one of Rin's Australian friends? That's it?! Not even a mention of Samezuka's Maid Cafe??? :'D
> 
> Yeaaaaaaaah. IDEK. I just wanted to see maid!Rin fucking Haruka, basically. WHY HASN'T IT BEEN DONE BEFORE? (OR HAS IT? :O!!)


End file.
